Jungho didn't even wait a minute after Jay left. The moment Jay left, he pulled out his phone and pressed Suha's name with urgency he didn't bother hiding.
She picked up quickly. "Hello?"
"Suha," Jungho said, breath tight. "Listen to me carefully."
She paused. "Hyung? What happened?"
"I need you to keep an eye on Jay tonight."
Her voice tensed. "What? Why? Is he okay?"
"No," he said honestly. "He's not."
Suha sucked in a breath.
"He left the office," Jungho continued. "He's on the way home right now. I don't know if he's thinking clearly. He worked nonstop until two. And earlier he…" Jungho shut his eyes, replaying the moment Jay stepped out of their father's office. That dead look. The kind of look that could scare anyone who loved him.
"…He heard some things that broke him," Jungho said quietly. "And even if he won't admit it, he's hurting."
Suha's voice weakened. "What do you want me to do?"
"First," Jungho said, "don't let him go into the balcony or the rooftop alone."
Her breath hitched. "Hyung…"
"I'm serious. If he wants to go outside, go with him. Don't let him isolate himself. Not tonight."
"Okay."
"Second," he said, voice heavy. "If he tries anything stupid, you call me. Immediately. Don't hesitate for even a second."
"I won't," she whispered.
"I'm trusting you with this." Jungho swallowed hard. "I know he listens to you more than he listens to anyone. Even me."
"I'll watch him," she said. "I promise."
"Good." He exhaled shakily. "Take care of him."
"Okay."
Jungho ended the call but stood still for a long moment, staring at his phone. A part of him wanted to run after Jay, drag him home himself, and sit next to him all night. But his brother always shut everyone out. Always hid everything behind that cold, expressionless wall.
Tonight, that wall looked close to cracking.
Jay pushed open the front door. The house was dim and quiet, only a lamp glowing in the corner of the living room.
That's when he saw her.
Suha was sitting on the sofa, knees drawn close under a blanket, eyes fixed on the front door as if waiting for him.
He blinked. "You're still awake?"
She stood immediately. "It's almost three. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You didn't have to wait," he said. His voice was flat, tired. "You should've gone to sleep."
"I did wait." She stepped a little closer. "You look exhausted."
"I'm fine," he muttered.
"No, you're not." Her eyes softened. "Come eat something. At least a little."
Jay removed his shoes and loosened his tie without looking at her. "I'm not hungry."
"Jay, you didn't eat anything since noon."
"I'm not hungry," he repeated.
Her brows pressed together. "You should at least try."
"No, Suha." His voice was firmer this time. "I don't want dinner."
The silence after that was heavy. He didn't look at her, and she didn't step closer.
"Fine," she whispered after a moment. "Then… go take a shower. You look stressed."
He didn't reply, but he walked past her.
The bathroom door closed behind him.
The warm water hit his skin, but nothing loosened. Not his muscles. Not his chest. Not the weight sitting behind his ribs.
He scrubbed his hair, washed his face, stood under the water like it might wash away the day.
It didn't.
He leaned his palms on the cold tile and closed his eyes.
For a moment, he wished he could stay here forever—somewhere quiet and empty, with nothing to demand, nothing to hurt, nothing to pretend for.
When the water finally ran cold, he shut it off.
He stepped out, dried himself off, and changed into sleep clothes: a plain gray shirt and loose black pants.
When he opened the bathroom door, Suha was still in the living room.
She stood up slowly. "Are you going to sleep?"
"Yeah."
"Goodnight," she said.
Jay nodded once. "Goodnight."
He walked upstairs, his steps dragging slightly.
Suha watched him disappear into the hallway, her chest tight with worry.
Then she went to her own room. She changed into her pajamas, brushed her hair, turned off the lights, and lay down.
But sleep didn't come.
Something felt wrong.
Something felt too quiet.
Something inside her whispered that tonight wasn't supposed to end calmly.
She tossed and turned, stared at the ceiling, pressed a hand against her chest.
Her heartbeat felt uneasy.
"…Jay," she whispered to herself, as if speaking his name alone could settle her nerves.
It didn't.
Jay lay in bed, eyes open in the darkness.
He turned to his side. Then the other side. Then onto his back again.
Sleep wouldn't come.
His mind was loud, uncooperative, full of buzzing thoughts that wouldn't shut up.
He stared at the ceiling.
A memory slipped in. Then another. And another.
Flour on his hands. The warmth of an oven. A cake rising slowly. The smell of vanilla and sugar. Cream on his fingers. A soft laugh he used to have. A small dream that used to fit into the palm of his hand.
Baking.
He loved baking.
He used to sneak into the kitchen after school, mixing ingredients he memorized like a secret code. He used to stay up late decorating cakes he didn't even want to eat—he just loved making them.
He remembered showing one to his father. He remembered the disappointment on Jiseok's face when Jay quietly said:
"I want to be a baker."
The memory came back sharply.
"You want to be what?" "A baker, Dad." "Are you insane?" "I… I like it." "You're not wasting your life making cakes in some filthy shop." "…But—" "Enough. You'll work in the company. Stop with these childish fantasies." "But baking makes me happy." "Then stop being happy."
Jay shut his eyes tight.
His chest burned.
He remembered being fourteen, staring at his hands covered in flour, wondering if there was something wrong with him for wanting something so simple.
Wondering if dreams were only allowed for certain types of people.
He couldn't even remember when he baked a cake for the last time. Or when he stopped trying. When he stopped wanting anything at all.
He inhaled shakily.
Then one thought came quietly.
Small. Fragile. Honest.
What if… I just don't exist?
The air left his lungs slowly.
It wasn't dramatic. Wasn't loud. Wasn't even emotional.
Just a calm, tired question he'd been too afraid to voice.
What if things would be easier if he simply wasn't here anymore?
He sat up suddenly.
He swung his legs off the bed.
And he stood.
The house was silent. The hallway was darker than usual.
He walked slowly. Not rushed. Not shaky. Just moving, like something invisible was pulling him along.
He climbed the stairs that led to the rooftop.
Each step felt heavy, like something inside him was sinking deeper.
He reached the metal door and pushed it open quietly.
Cold night air hit his face immediately. He stepped out.
The rooftop was quiet and open. The city lights shimmered below like tiny stars. The wind brushed past him gently.
He walked forward. Closer. Closer. Closer.
He stopped in front of the railing.
He looked down.
The world below looked small. Far. Quiet.
The night wrapped around him like a question he didn't know how to answer.
He stood there, not moving.
Just breathing. Barely.
Suha's eyes opened suddenly.
Something felt wrong.
She sat up.
Then she heard it.
Footsteps.
Soft. Slow. But clear.
Walking upward.
Her blood ran cold.
"No…" she whispered.
She threw off the blanket, ran out of her room and toward the stairs. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
She rushed up the steps, almost tripping, and reached the rooftop door.
She grabbed the handle, pushed it open—
"Jay!"